


Teach Me [How To Be Human]

by Kamikaze_Embers



Category: Food Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Comfort, Fluff, Forehead Kisses, Gay, M/M, Morning Kisses, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, brief mention of past trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-13
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-11 18:55:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15978386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kamikaze_Embers/pseuds/Kamikaze_Embers
Summary: There's a lot to learn about being human.





	Teach Me [How To Be Human]

The warmth that flows through him whenever he sees that small, rare smile is something even his mechanical mind can't understand. The shooting sparks that come from the simple act of the gloved hand over his- either hand,the metal one or the human one. The bunny kisses on the tip of his nose that leave him flustered in a way that no machine should be able to feel. The longing to stay by the shorter male's side, to hold him close and never let go. The flurry of kisses that leave his face the soft pink of a pale rose, the unspoken words in his gentle actions.

Sometimes, he likes to sit and watch Brownie. In a way, the cannon-wielding food soul is like a work of art, like poetry in motion. Smooth and flowing, certain and gentle. He isn't blaringly confident, but there is an air of pride in the way he carries himself. He hums as he begins cooking, the early morning sun illuminating his face. The soft blue color of Brownie's eyes shine in the distant light, the rays casting a soft, ethereal glow onto him. If there were such things as angels who were not the fallen ones they fought, B-52 was positive he had found one in the food soul called Brownie.

He wraps his arms around said person, adoring the tiny squeak that escapes past his lips, smiling as the soft cat ears flicker briefly. Resting his chin in the crook of Brownie's neck, B-52 looks over at the dish he is preparing. Brownie blushes as he pauses, turning to look at the other as best as he can in their current position. This is early even for Brownie, who often woke up early to prepare for the day and begin his work. B-52 leans even closer somehow and kisses the younger food soul's cheek, taking in the warmth that flows through him at such a simple action. He then walks towards the counter, leaning against it to face Brownie directly.

Brownie jumps slightly and gives him the rare smile B-52 swore he would always treasure. He steps closer, arms shyly wrapping around B-52. He reaches up, cupping the other's face in a gloved hand, thumb rubbing circles over his rosy pink cheek. He presses his forehead against the cocktail's, closing the gap between them with a soft kiss. B-52 slowly reaches up and begins to weave his fingers through the other's soft brown hair, occasionally holding up a piece to the light, admiring the shine and the light brown glow the sun's rays create.

Before he met Brownie, he never would have thought any of this even existed. There were no ethereal glows, no halos of light, no warmth at all. His world had been so cold and cruel, painted in the blood red color of a rose. He had killed people in cold blood for such mundane reasons. Because he was told to. Getting out of that place, even though he went to the catacombs and could have died, was the best thing he ever did. He had wanted to be human, and the blood surrounding him- his own this time- proved to him that he wasn't the simple machine he believed himself to be.

Brownie had taught him so many things. He had held B-52 during those long, dreadful nights when he could not sleep, his subconscious plagued with nightmares. He had fussed over him, over his almost nonexistent self-care habits. Convincing him to take breaks and go on long, unwinding strolls. Admiring the beauty each day held, showing the cocktail that not each day had to be painted red- it was up to him to decide how he wanted the day to be. Even in the rain, hiding under an umbrella, he laughed and joked alongside his companion. He learned happiness and slowly came to understand joy. On their peaceful walks through meadows, B-52 liked to stop and smell the flowers, eyes closed. 

He would curl up with Brownie after yet another wonderful, idyllic day and close his eyes. Sometimes, he'd listen to Brownie's heartbeat, maybe even his gentle purring. He would fall asleep talking to Brownie, listening to his whispered voice telling him how much he was loved, how much he meant to Brownie. The blankets were always soft and warm; all the pillowcases, sheets and blankets freshly washed, the faint fragrance of lilac lingering within the fabric. Brownie was warmer, of course, but the gesture never went unnoticed. He always went through all this trouble to ensure B-52 would be comfortable and wouldn't let B-52's self-depreciating attitude convince him to stop caring about his comfort.

The kiss is broken gradually, snapping B-52 from his wandering train of thought. Brownie runs his fingers through B-52's messy blond hair, untangling it gently. His other hand wraps around the mechanical one, giving a warm squeeze. He kisses B-52's forehead, returning to the abandoned dish. He serves it up, setting it on the counter. In a few minutes, the restaurant would open for the day. The taller male leans forward for another kiss and Brownie happily obliges, the warmth shooting throughout them both. Now they're holding each other's hands.

Before he met B-52, Brownie wasn't in the best of situations. Ever since he and Napoleon Cake had helped that little girl, Brownie had done everything he could to better himself. If he was going to be any kind of professional, he needed to work hard. For a while, B-52 was the only one who could convince Brownie to take breaks and rest. He had seen the ambitious butler work himself far, so far past exhaustion, and in those times, he saw his old self. Determined and convinced that he was undeserving of any sort of care. Certain that he could not and did not need rest. They did not really need to eat, but B-52 would make a bowl of minestrone for Brownie, recalling that it was his favorite food. 

He had made mental notes of everything B-52 liked, from grilled calamari to what he called the human way of flying- motorbikes. Brownie had gotten him one after seeing how awestruck he was after watching a stuntman perform on one. Sometimes, the two would just hop onto the bike and drive. It never mattered where. Brownie would rest his head between B-52's shoulder blades, arms wrapped around his waist carefully. He would watch as the other's white blond hair became messy and windswept, making the quiet note to fix it once they arrived at their destination. There were times when B-52 would scoop Brownie up and carry him. He would fly in the air while holding Brownie in a bridal style, or walk in the sea of green grass in a meadow with Brownie seated upon his shoulders.

After work, the two run outside in the grass, dewdrops brushing against their legs. The breeze is hushed, a gentle rush past their faces. The flowers sway in the wind, droplets of rain kissing the vivid hues of the petals. The rich scent of rain and damp earth fills the air around them, the sun peeking through the last few gray rainclouds that remain in the sky. B-52 grabs Brownie's hands and the two spin around, laughing without a care in the world as though they are children. Falling over, they're still laughing. Laughing to the point of tears. The moment is blissfully innocent, warm and full of the excitement and happiness of a child.

This is all still new to B-52, who had never known such happiness even existed. Machines can't be happy, can't experience such a range of emotions, after all. However, Brownie was all the proof he needed that he was real, he was as human as any food soul. Each day brought forth new experiences and so many new wonders he'd never known. He does not fear the unknown- rather, he embraces it with open arms.

Because with Brownie at his side, he has no reason to be afraid of change.


End file.
